Shopping List
by theonlywater
Summary: The Doctor wants Jammy Dodgers. Rory is too kind for his own good. Trouble is, with his track record, he should know that venturing into London on a Friday night is practically searching for trouble.
1. Rain

**A/N: So, I'm back! And hello, to everyone, I suppose! I know I probably shouldn't start another story, but I will. It's fully written, I'll post chapters up regularly. Review your thoughts! **

**_**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, or any of it's characters or themes. I'm just a fan.**_**

**-oOo-**

It had started raining.

Rory Williams sighed in exasperation and continued to walk along the dull tarmac, pulling his sleeves further down over his hands uselessly against the wind.

_I was promised amazing worlds and different civilizations,_ he thought, dryly.

He was pretty sure London was neither different, nor particularly amazing.

Especially not Brixton.

At night.

But they were here for a reason, Rory reminded himself. An important reason- to prevent the earth from being blown to pieces. Or rather, for the Doctor to prevent it, with the company of his glamorous assistant. Who just happened to have a husband.

And so, on arrival, Rory (being the most willing and- more relevantly- most unnecessary of the trio) had volunteered to get 'essentials'.  
>Even if it was just to get away from the room of military personnel joking and laughing with the Doctor about subjects that Rory did not have any knowledge of, and shamelessly flirting with his wife.<p>

He really didn't know how a pack of Jammy Dodgers and some jelly babies would do to help evade an asteroid- especially with all the technology he had to hand at UNIT HQ, their current destination. He did have a pretty good idea they were just going to be shared around by the Timelord, with tea and possibly a joke on him. As always.

Oh well, he thought, walking further into the night and away from the streetlights, in the hope of a shortcut to the high street and twenty four hour Tesco. He wasn't really mad at them at all, just a bit fed up. It was unfair to accuse the Doctor of treating him badly- the pair were good friends, and the Doctor had come to respect Rory greatly. He loved travelling with the Doctor and Amy- and he loved Amy, his wife, even more than that.

And it wasn't like they made him go, Amy offered to come with him, or go instead.

But he had insisted.  
>The Doctor saving the day was much better entertainment then him trying to find a supermarket, he thought, tiredly.<p>

Still, Rory thought, trudging along, he was the one out in the cold- he could feel a bit sorry for himself. The rain was pouring now, and Rory's footsteps sounded much louder now he was away from the main road, each shoe hitting the concrete with a wet slap. The high street shouldn't be too far away, he thought, entering the narrow maze of dark alleyways that snaked around the houses.

The wind blew through the small space, stirring the rubbish. Rory swallowed. This shortcut didn't seem as good an idea now he was here, in eerie darkness, picking his way through cigarette butts. He persisted, though, and after about a minute he heard a chorus of drunken curses start up, coming from nearby.

Rory froze, cursing himself for being such a wuss. This was late Friday night. Of course people would be out enjoying themselves. It wasn't a threat, or cause for concern.

He nodded, resolved, and walked on. It didn't help to slow his beating heart he was now suddenly painfully aware of. The shouts were coming in his direction- they seemed to be coming from just around the corner now.

Rory's fists clenched and his breathing quickened. _You've fought vampires and pirates, been killed at least four times, and lived over 2000 years as a plastic centurion_, he thought bitterly, _and you're scared of a drunk?_

He calmed at that, and smiled. It was so easy to forget his time as a Roman. He drew courage from the memories, and steeled himself. The rowdy men turned the corner, now chanting a rhyme. There were about six of them, all big and burly, shaved heads and football shirts. Some were carrying bottles in their hands.

Rory tried not to show any signs of acknowledgement- but he couldn't help glancing at them. He looked away quickly as one of the guys grunted at him. Don't act scared, he thought, then they won't make a move.

"Oii, skinny boy, d'ya wanna play with the big kids?"

Too late.

The others joined in then, picking up from the first, their words slurred and aggressive.  
>Rory looked down and carried on, petrified. He passed them with none making a move, intending to continue quickly away once he was around the corner, scolding himself for getting so worked up, when one of them reached out and grabbed him.<br>He panicked and shot around, trying to pull away, while the others lumbered toward them, forming a ring around the now struggling Rory.

"Are you threatening us?" one of them boomed.

"No. Let me go. I've done nothing!" Rory tried desperately, aware of how pathetic he sounded.

"Naa mate, you get what you asked for!" a particularly vicious looking drunk man slurred, as he staggered forward.

The fist came out of nowhere. Pretty quick for a drunk guy, Rory fleetingly thought, before the slab connected with his head and he fell to his knees, being held up by a hand attached to the back of his collar. Bright spots appeared in his now blurry vision.

They jeered gleefully, and before long another man kicked out, hitting Rory in the stomach, drawing a grunt from the injured man. This seemed to spur them on, and Rory was dropped to the ground with a thump.

The floodgates opened, boots and kicks raining down on his body and face, the smashing of bottles over his prone form. Rory's sight and hearing grew duller, and the sharp panic that had descended on him grew foggy.

He knew that he would not get up from this easily afterwards, and hoped that he wouldn't die here, with these drunks beating him, soaking in the blood that he could feel as already beginning to saturate his clothes.

He hoped Amy wouldn't forget about him.

Vaguely, Rory remembered he had never made it to the shop. He hoped they could do without. The worry of what they would do without Jammy Dodgers fresh in his hazy mind, he passed out.

**-oOo-**

**Review?**


	2. Help

**A/N: Hello! Sorry it's been so long, but here's an extra long chapter to make it up. Mainly because I didn't know where to end it. **

**Thanks for more Reviews, Alerts and Favorites than this deserves!**

**-oOo-**

It was a while later that Rory came round, stirring slowly on the grass.

He was aware that he was soaked through, and he wandered if it was blood or the rain that was still drizzling down. Sharp pains suddenly hit him, and with a gasp, he remembered the attack. He kept silent for a minute, trying to work out if he was alone.

He was, but they would most likely be coming back soon.

He groaned. Being a nurse, he quickly mentally checked himself over. The worst pain he could feel was his ribs- which were probably broken, he thought. Apart from that he was badly bruised all over his torso, and he had at least a mild concussion.

Rory knew he was in trouble and had to get help, and with that in mind, rolled onto his back, attempting to stand. The pain was blinding, but he breathed through it, and manages to sit himself up against the brick wall.

Now was the hard part.

He heaved himself up, moaning at the sheer volume of pain that assaulted him. The lane tilted dangerously. When the walls finally stopped swaying enough for him to focus, he realised with a sinking feeling that it was going to be a long walk.

He could feel blood trickling from his mouth, and making his shirt stick to his stomach and chest. He moved his hand along the wall slightly, but a white hot pain shot through it, making him gasp, his previously supported body slamming into the wall.

_Great, that's broken_,he thought, warily.

He stayed like that for a while, collapsed into the wall, trying to clear his head. It had been a couple of hours since he had been attacked, he guessed- so even more since he had left Amy and the Doctor. That was more time than it could ever take to visit the shops. Surely they would be looking for him? But no sign. Probably haven't even noticed he'd gone, Rory thought bitterly.

He sighed. They weren't his parents; they couldn't be blamed for everything that went wrong in his life. He was a grown man. Gingerly, he pushed away from the wall, still leaning heavily on his one good arm. One foot in front of the other, he thought, slowly stepping forward. The movement was jarring, but not too bad, so he slowly continued on, noting groggily the red stains slowly spreading over his shirt.

After about 20 minutes, he had covered about a hundred yards, and could see the streetlights glowing faintly from the exit. That was good, he thought. If he could only get to the street, someone would be around to help him, hopefully.

It was then he faintly heard voices at the mouth of the alleyway. He stopped his heart quickening. Please don't let it be them, coming back for more, he thought, desperately. He listened intently, and sighed with shaky relief at the sound that met his ears.

"Amelia, calm down, he'll be fine. The TARDIS tracked him somewhere near here. We'll find him." It was the Doctor, and he was with Amy, Rory realised.

Good. She was okay.

He frowned, processing what he had heard. Amy was worried, about him. He had to tell her it was fine, not to worry. He quickly took a couple of steps forward toward their silhouettes. He tried to call her name- but only a moan escaped his mouth. He tried again.

"Amy! Doctor!" he called voice horse.

The figures looked up, and started to run, calling his name.

"Rory!" The Doctor exclaimed. "What happened?"

But Rory could only moan, as the adrenalin left him, and he sunk down the wall. Amy reached them, and together, her and the Doctor lay him gently back on the floor.

He groaned, but mentally scolded himself for being so pathetic. "Sorry." he mumbled, ashamed that he thought they wouldn't be worried about him.

"For what, stupid face?" Amy muttered, her worried but slightly amused smile swimming into Rory's vision, framed by fiery hair.

He was going to explain, he really was, but the pain and nausea, and the bone deep tiredness was drowning him, so he managed to utter the word "shopping" as an excuse.

He heard soft laughter, and an "Oh, Rory." before his torso was lifted and something was knotted tightly around it. Carefully, his head was lifted, and then laid back down on something softer and considerably drier then the ground.

"It'll be okay, Rory." the Doctor muttered, as Amy stroked his hair softly. He didn't try to say anything or move; he was just content to lie there and let them look after him. He was glad for friends like these.

He lay there for about ten minutes, drifting in and out of consciousness, while Amy and the Doctor skittered around him; muttering soothing words and wrapping various makeshift bandages around his wounds, all the while talking worriedly amongst themselves.

He was able to make out enough to know that he'd been gone for five hours (A bit more than a minor concussion, then) and they had been looking for most of that time; (having cleared up the asteroid problem about half an hour after his departure) resorting to the TARDIS scanner when all else failed.

After some time, they both sat down either side of him, and Amy shook him gently by the soldier. "Rory. Rory!" she called, using hushed tones. He groggily prized his eyes open in response. The Doctor took over.

"You've lost a lot of blood, and you need medical attention, so well have to move you-"  
>"I thought we should call an ambulance, but apparently the Doctor says" Amy cut in, pausing to glare accusingly at the man in question. "-that everything we need is in the TARDIS med bay, along with stuff not available in our time, to help you better." she finished.<p>

"Anyway," the Doctor continued, "Do you think you can walk? We can help you all you need."

Through their speech, Rory's eyes had flicked back and forth between the two, processing what they had said. He grunted out what he hope sounded like a yes, and nodded his head slightly.

Amy and the Doctor both stood up and gently took one upper arm each, slowly helping him to his feet. Eventually he was more or less standing- even though most of his weight was on Amy and the Doctor; now with one arm each around their necks.

"How can someone so skinny weigh so much?" Amy complained, taking the first step forward.

They made slow progress, Amy and the Doctor having to stop often to adjust Rory's weight; the Doctor had a hold of his bad arm, and so had to be very careful. By the time they had reached the end of the lane, Rory was practically being carried by the others, his feet dragging along behind him, his head sagging into his chest.

It was the Doctor who stopped them this time- to loudly explain "Cor, Rory, you're not helping much, are you?" before swiftly hooking his hand under the taller man's knees, lifting him up into his arms bridal style.

Rory groaned, half in pain, half in embarrassment. Amy giggled.

"Come on then!" the Doctor exclaimed brightly, starting to walk. "Oh, stop complaining, this is easier- not to mention more comfortable- for everyone!" he added, at another groan from Rory.

To anyone watching, the scene was rather comical- a red headed girl bounding ahead of a man dressed like a geography teacher (bow tie and all) carrying a gangly man like a baby; all dangling limbs and awkward angles.

Thankfully, the Doctor had landed the TARDIS close to the lane entrance, having moved it to where It had tracked Rory to earlier in the evening. This meant that the Doctor didn't have too far to walk- which was good, because he weighed more than he looked.

The trio entered the TARDIS hurriedly, continuing up the stairs to Amy and Rory's bedroom- helpfully moved closer by the TARDIS. The Doctor kicked open the door, muttering a thanks to his beloved ship, and laid Rory down gently on the bed.

Amy quickly disappeared into a door at the far wall, and the sound of running water echoed around the room. She walked back in and joined the pair, nodding at the Doctor, before they both turned to look at Rory.

It was obvious the injured man was having trouble staying awake; his eyebrows knitted together in such a way that showed he was in a lot of pain. The Doctor noted this, and wasted no time to get supplies from the med bay, rushing out the room with a flourish.

Their room was quite large: with a double bed in the middle of the right hand wall; and various items- tables and dressers- arranged along the left hand wall. Two doors stood at the end of the room; one housing an on suite bathroom, and the other a walk in wardrobe.

The walls and ceiling were painted a soft yellow that appeared to be gently glowing, and the carpet was a deep TARDIS blue. The double bed had deep blue sheets to match the carpet; on a dark oak frame.

This was where Rory was currently laying- moaning softly. Amy had pulled a chair up to his side and was currently stroking his hair, asking him what hurt the most.

"Ribs, Arm." he muttered, softly. "And head." he added, as he turned slightly to look into his wife's eyes. He knew he needed to say something important, so he opened his mouth again, breathing heavily. He tried to start talking, but was met by Amy's cool hand lightly over his mouth.

"Don't try to talk, stupid face." she murmured, bending down to kiss his forehead. It could wait, Rory decided.

The Doctor rushed in then, carrying a trolley with various medical items on it. Amy sprung up and grabbed a wheelchair, unfolding it on the floor. The Doctor nodded in agreement, but Rory groaned- apparently befuddled as to what the pair were planning.

"You need to wash. You're caked in mud, and soaked through with dirty water. We need to clean you, before the cuts get infected." Amy called over her shoulder, forcing several fluffy towels and some bottles with various lotions in them into the bag to Doctor had pulled out.

Rory moaned in protest- but was silenced by a finger on his lips. He looked up to find Amy smiling innocently down at him, clearly enjoying his squirming.

"No arguments." she stated. "I promise well be gentle, and I won't let the Doctor peek." she grinned.


	3. Sleep

**A/N: Hi! You know at the beginning, when I told you this would be updated regularly? Yeeaaah... Sorry 'bout that. Anyway, here you go, an inadequate fluff fest! Thanks again for all the (undeserved) attention!**

** -oOo-**

It was true he did need a wash- lying in a pool of mud and blood for over four hours with open wounds could never be good.

He could feel blood matted in his hair, and sticking his clothes to his body. He sighed in defeat. The Doctor was at his side then, and together, he and Amy gently lifted him up into sitting position, before sliding him onto the chair.  
>He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain.<p>

When he was settled in the chair, the Doctor slowly pushed it into the bathroom, Amy in their wake.  
>The large bath was about half full now, so Amy turned off the tap.<br>Rory was aware of being lifted into the lukewarm water, but the dissiness and nausea that accompanied his headache was washing over him in waves- all he could concerntrate on was the pounding in his head.

He involuntarily let out a low moan of pain.  
>This was met with a chorus of soothing words from Amy, and he was released into the bath. At first, the water stung his wounds, pain dancing across his aching body like fire. The pain soon was muted though, soothed by the water. He exhaled heavily- and would have completely immersed himself in the cooling liquid, if it went for the steadying hands on his arms.<p>

He was dimly aware of a voice- the Doctor's, he realized.

"... Have to cut your clothes off... Water will make it easier for us to undress you... Won't hurt too much."

A wave of embarrassment washed over him suddenly; he was dreading being so exposed and vulnerable.  
>But, he consoled himself, the Doctor was his best friend- and Amy was here. He pushed down the feeling and slurred out what he hoped sounded like an 'okay'.<br>A second later he could feel cool metal against his skin as the scissors began slicing through the sleeve of his shirt on his uninjured arm, and then moving on to the other one, while another pair of hands worked at the front of his chest, undoing his buttons.

A sharp pain suddenly tore through his arm as his arm was jostled while the shredded shirt was removed, and he couldn't supress a yelp, his eyes rolling into his head, breathing speeding up.  
>Cool hands were on his face in an instant, and a sudden, unexplainable calm and numbness washed over him, while the Doctor muttered something about a physic link. He relaxed, and visibly sagged in their grip- vaguely aware of them cutting away the rest of his clothes, and hands and flannels lightly trailing over his now fully exposed body<br>. He closed his eyes and let the numbness lull him into a slumber, calming, soothing.

-oOo-

He was being shaken, he noted with a detached curiosity.  
>Voices were calling him. Rory didn't know why he was so wanted all of a sudden- or why they couldn't just let him sleep.<p>

"Rory. Rory."

"Rory Pond!"

"Rory, if you don't get out of this bath now, so help me I'll..."

Oops. That was Amy. He groaned and weakly tried to haul himself up with one arm- heavily assisted by his friends.  
>Once he was fully standing, he was aware of towels being wrapped around him, and being sat back down into the chair.<br>He didn't think he could hold on much longer though, and when he was lifted onto the bed, he groaned softly.  
>The hands came to his face again, lightly brushing his temples- and everything went quiet.<p>

**-oOo-**

**A/N: So, anyone reading this for the second time, terribly sorry about the formatting error first time 'round. Feel free to scream and yell. **


	4. Panic

**A/N: So, to anyone who's been following this story, the formatting [disaster] issue has been sorted, so go and read the previous chapter, apology and all. Anyway, new chapter, and one more to go (or two, depending on the demand for a certain Scot's revenge)!**

**-oOo-**

Rory awoke many hours later- confused and disorientated, in a dark room.

His head was pounding, and the effort it had taken to open his eyes was unreasonable.  
>He tried to move. Pain laced through him; and he could feel himself panicking more with every breath, unable to stop himself.<p>

_They were close_, he thought. Come back for another beating, while he was immobilized with pain.  
>He had to get up, to run away from the dark alley, and the smell of blood and alcohol.<p>

He blindly rolled to the left, yelling at the white hot pain the movement caused, and realized a second too late he was on the edge of an elevated surface.  
>He hit the ground with a heavy thump, and he screamed.<br>What felt like needles ripped out of him on impact, and he felt something rip in his back, hot blood beginning to pool on the floor.

Machines bleeped wildly, panicking the sobbing Rory even more, as he tried desperately to crawl away from the noise, to curl up, out of his attackers reach.

It was at this point that Amy and the Doctor rushed in, their arms full of various medical supplies, and saw the man, lying curled on his side, blood dribbling from the ripped stitches in his back, sobbing freely.

Amy gasped as they both dropped their supplies and hurried over, being careful not to distress Rory further. The Doctor could have kicked himself for being so stupid- how could he have left Rory unattended?

"We were gone for five minutes, you idiot!"

He shushed Amy, and crouched in front of Rory.

"Rory. Rory, I need you to focus."

As he said this, he dropped down to sit, and carefully moved Rory so that he was sat with his back against him, still curled up, sobbing uncontrollably.  
>He didn't seem to notice the blood seeping onto the front of his shirt from Rory's back- if he did, he didn't complain.<p>

"Rory. Listen to me: try to breathe in time with me. Just focus on breathing."

After some time, Rory focused on this stranger's words through the painful hazy fog that smothered him, and managed to get his breathing back under shaky control.  
>He unfurled his limbs as the panic slowly lifted, and with embarrassing realisation, he remembered where he was and who he was with.<p>

No thugs, no muggers.  
>Amy and the Doctor.<p>

And right now, he was pressed with his bare back embarrassingly into the Doctor's stomach.

Oh dear.

"Rory? Rory, are you okay?"

That was Amy, his Amy- who had just witnessed that whole embarrassing display of events.

"I'm sorry." he said, quietly. A hand came to rub his back, before remembering the split stitches, blood leaking down to the floor.

"Shh now, it's okay. Let's get you cleaned up."

He allowed himself to be lifted off the ground and back into his bed: he was too exhausted to protest, and he didn't think it was possible to appear weaker to them more than he'd already made himself. He was laid gently on his stomach, as the Doctor and Amy set about preparing to once again close the nasty gash on his back.

"Rory, the Doctor's going to give you some anaesthetic, is that okay?"

Amy's voice was kind and gentle- but Rory couldn't help but imagine the pity she must have been trying so hard to mask.

"Yes. Okay. Amy, it's- I'm sorry, I-" the words of the unspoken apology died in his throat as Amy bent down and tenderly pressed her lips to his, all the love and comfort she had wanted to give passed in a second. He hummed softly, and her hand took his.

He felt a needle in his arm, and a dulled pain in his back as the Doctor worked.

"Go to sleep now, Rory." Amy muttered, as another needle was carefully inserted, and everything went black.

**-oOo-**

**A/N:Clichéd ending is Clichéd. Obviously four in the morning isn't an appropriate time for fiction. Another thing, I'd be more than grateful for any Beta (as I obviously need one). **


	5. Shame

**A/N: Back! As ever, I apologize for the wait- and with not much, it seems. Oh well, here's some fluff, and you will just have to wait for the last chapter. I love you all!**

**-oOo-**

Light was streaming through Rory's eyelids, making his vision pink and blotchy. He was vaguely aware that falling unconscious was becoming all too uncommon at the moment- but noted with reflief that awareness didn't bring agony this time, thankfully.

His hearing slowly faded in, bringing with it the dull beeping of machinery, and low voices. He briefly wandered if he had nodded off during a night shift at the hospital, but then the memories of recent events came flooding back to him. He groaned, inwardly.

How could he have been so pathetic and helpless? Hed seen two thousand years of blood, death and sacrifice; but he was still just a wimpy nurse from Leadworth. He remembered the panic attack- the last time he'd been conscious.

The reasonable, nurse part of him told him that it was completely understandable and normal in this situation; but the Roman part of him told him that no one could treat him equally again after that display of weakness- let alone the Doctor and Amy. He sighed and shifted slightly, to be rewarded with several stabs of pain and a pair of elated voices.

"Hello, sleepy head. Decided to finally wake up, did you?"

"Rory! Only us, don't worry! How do you feel?"

"Wha-Hmm?" was the best he could manage, in response to the multiple questions being fired at him. The Doctor had now dragged a couple of chairs over, but Amy had promptly climbed over the lines connecting him to numerous IV's and monitors and snuggled up to him, now on the other side of the bed.

"Do you want to sit?" she asked, giving him a kiss on the cheek. He shook his head. It was extremely difficult to form words with a tongue that felt like a small dead animal had been put to rest in his mouth, Rory reasoned, but he managed to speak fairly clearly.

"I- I can manage."

With that, he pushed himself up with his non- broken arm ( the other one being in a cast, he noted with mild surprise) and managed to stay up on his own before collapsing onto the pillows Amy had now arranged against the headboard. "Amy, Doctor. I'm sorry." he sighed, shutting his eyes briefly.

"Rory." that was the Doctor, running a hand down his face.

"How is any of this your fault? I was the one who sent you on a pointless task into the dark of Brixton at night. I was the one who left you on your own for four hours in the cold. I was the one who didn't stop this."

"No. I'm sorry for being so useless. I can't even go to a supermarket without nearly dying." he turned away, ashamed at his own weaknesses and unable to accept the Doctor's apology.

"None of this is your fault, Rory Pond. Don't you think for a second you aren't capable of anything. You are amazing, and don't let anything change that."

His wife. Beautiful Amelia Pond. How was it she always knew what to say to him to make him feel better?

"I love you." he muttered, catching her hand from where it was curled protectively around his waste in his own, burying his face in her long hair. After a couple of minutes, the bed shifted slightly, and he felt another hand in his. The Doctors hand. In bed with him and his wife, for cuddles.

"Roranicus the roman. Bravest man I've ever met." the Doctor muttered into his hair.

Rory smiled, as the Doctor eased himself under the covers and curled himself into Rory's back. Rory squeezed his hand, and snuggled closer to Amy. He would always have his best friends.

**-oOo- **

**A/N: Reviews are the foundations of updates, guys. **


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